


Transfer Principle

by penlex



Series: Mick Rory Appreciation Porn [2]
Category: DCU, The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Ice Play, M/M, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Safe Sane and Consensual, Subspace, Temperature Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 23:04:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8866921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penlex/pseuds/penlex
Summary: Leonard let Mick play with fire, and now it's his turn.





	

Len puts the ice on himself first, circling the melting cube around a nipple before sliding it slowly down his torso under a flat palm. He tilts his head back and hisses, pleasure and just plain coldness combining to make him shiver. By the time the ice reaches Len's hips it's just a sliver and he simply takes his hand away and lets it slip underneath, and melt into, the waist of his pants. Mick's mouth can't decide if it wants to go dry or drool.  
  
"No offense, man," he says for something to say. "But you're fuckin' weird." Len only laughs, rolls his eyes.  
  
"Just lay back and think of how I let you set me on fire," he snarks playfully, and Mick laughs easily, thumps his back against the table, and tucks his arms underneath his head. The position makes his biceps bunch up a little, and Mick watches Len's eyes follow the curves of them with a cocky grin, flexes just a touch. It earns him another eye roll, but it only makes him feel warm and kind of giddy.  
  
"Show me what all your damn hype is, Lenny," he teases, his cheeks kind of starting to hurt. Len just gives him a flat look and drops a new ice cube into the slope of Mick's belly without warning. Mick jumps at the sudden, sharp sensation, but doesn't have time to react much more than that because Len is sticking his warm tongue into Mick's mouth not a second later. They make out wetly as the ice melts, sending frigid water ticklishly over Mick's sides. The chill wars with the heat gathering between his legs at the way Len's tongue moves with his, the sounds their mouths make as they move against each other that almost echo in the wide mostly empty warehouse turned safehouse.  
  
Eventually, Len pulls away from Mick's mouth and licks up the little remaining moisture on his stomach, his mouth feeling notably hotter on Mick's cooled skin. His hands brush impatiently back and forth over the waist of Mick's pants, low on his hips. Dips his fingers inside, his eagerness illustrating easily where he's most excited to play.  
  
"You're not actually going to put ice there," Mick half asks. Len had of course, in their previous conversations about it, said he would, but Mick had thought he'd been being hyperbolic or whatever. Len rubs up and down, both comforting and sexy, along the insides of Mick's still-clad thighs. Mick shivers, with warmth, for now.  
  
"Don't worry," Len purrs, running tongue along the edge of his top lip for illustration. "I'll warm you up again right after." Mick can't deny he likes the sound of that, but-  
  
"Won't it make me go soft?" He wouldn't call it whining himself, if asked, but his tone is definitely lilting and... cranky. Len rolls his striking eyes up to meet Mick's pouty glare, smirks at him wickedly, and shakes his head like he's sharing a naughty secret.  
  
"Okay," says Mick, "if you say so," and lets his shoulders sink back down flat onto the table. Len rewards him for his trust by kissing Mick's belly button like it's his mouth, or something even better, dipping his tongue in and out, sucking and nipping at the rim. Len licks and sucks his way slowly lower, stretching out the journey like it's a long way to go instead of the bare few inches it is. He takes a few of the wiry hairs leading down beneath Mick's pants between his teeth and pulls, pinpricks of pain sharp and hot shooting into Mick's gut, and Mick's hips press upwards into him. Len huffs another laugh against the wet trail he's made on Mick's belly before ducking down that last bit further and putting his mouth on Mick through his jeans.

Mick lets his hands and head drop down onto the table underneath him with a hollow thunk, and lets his eyes fall shut too, his jaw drop. Lenny has always been good with his mouth, in the realm of words and in other things. His tongue presses heat, wetness, and Mick's zipper into the underside of his cock, a triple sensation they learned pretty quick in their acquaintance got Mick revved up fast. It's no different now. Mick's jeans are too tight across his groin, over his thighs as they flex when he can't help but squirm and rock harder into Len's expert teasing. He has to clench his fists on either side of his own head so that he's not tempted to grab at Len's instead, which Len hates. He vaguely feels short groans rumbling out of his throat, can feel that Lenny responds in kind every now and then by the muffled vibrations through the denim between them.

Mick opens his eyes again when Len takes his mouth away and there's the crunch of an ice tray being twisted to loosen up the cubes, but doesn't look. He's unduly nervous about the cold, worried still that it'll turn him off and Lenny will be disappointed, so he just takes a deep breath and lets it out slow from pursed lips, stays very still, and waits. He spreads his legs obediently when Len climbs onto the table in between them, settling with their thighs pressed together. There's a long drawn out moment where Mick knows that Len is just looking down at him, dragging his eyes all over Mick's chest and belly, his open legs, his hands still resting by his head. Once, Len had laid Mick out like this and just looked at him and talked at him, described to him how he looked and what Len liked about it until Mick was a begging, desperate mess, and Len still loves to put Mick in exactly this position and stare at him - and Mick loves to let him.

"Ready?" Len asks after a fraction of the usual staring. His voice is smooth and rich as real molasses, and the tone of it makes so many dirty promises if Mick wasn't ready before he definitely is now. His response is just a brief moan and the tilt of his hips, a shudder when Lenny chuckles again at how quick this game always goes to Mick's head and makes him quiet and needy. There's the soft scrape of ice against plastic, and Mick closes his eyes again as Len puts his free hand on Mick's waist to steady them both. Mick can feel Len's legs shift as he leans forward, and then the cold hard edge of the ice cube presses into the side of Mick's nipple. The sensation is bright and sharp and sudden and intense, and undeniably erotic even with how it's also vaguely unpleasant, forcing a reedy sound of surprise and arousal out of him. Mick's nipple tightens with the chill, growing extra sensitive, and then beginning to throb when the cold doesn't go away. Mick pants at the ceiling as Len circles the ice cube around the same nipple, over and over again, each sweep over the chilled wet skin sending the same confusing mix of pleasure and discomfort throughout Mick's body, until finally it starts to hurt and Mick whines. Len takes the ice away on cue. The air of the room feels warm there now, stimulating on its own, but it's nothing compared to when Len brings his mouth down over Mick's nipple without giving him more than a second to catch his breath.

" _Fuck!_ " Mick yelps, his whole body jerking hard as heat surges through him from that focal point. Lenny's mouth feels so hot, almost too hot. Mick's nipple tingles as Len flicks his tongue over the pebbled tip of it, almost like pins and needles as the numbness and pain from the cold of the ice disappears into tenderness. Len licks and sucks at Mick's sensitized nipple, circling his tongue around it along the same path he'd gone with the ice, until Mick is letting out those same moans he had at Len's mouth between his legs, until Mick's hips are rocking, seeking the heat and friction of Len's body. The denim over his cock is starting to hurt now and Mick wishes Len would unzip him, would touch him. When Mick says, "Len-" about to ask for just that, Len pulls away and puts the half melted ice cube back on that same nipple.

Mick cries out and his back arches, pressing his chest into the ice and his groin into Len's as his thighs squeeze hard around Len's hips. The cold definitely hurts now, but the feeling zings down Mick's spine like electricity. His body isn't sure what to do with the warring heat and cold sensations, so it just feels like _everything_. Len keeps the ice cube still, pressed right against Mick's nipple, until it melts the rest of the way, Mick whining, mildly overwhelmed, and then leans over again and kisses Mick's mouth softly, in apology or reward maybe, but more likely just because he feels like it. Mick takes Len's tongue into his mouth gladly, whatever Len's motive, sighing around the wet heat of it and relaxing into the familiar demanding way Len maps out the inside of his mouth. Mick opens his eyes again as Len pulls back from the kiss with a parting nip at Mick's bottom lip, and his vision is filled with Len's dark eyes and the flush on his cheeks and over the bridge of his nose.

The next ice cube follows the subtle valley cutting between Mick's pecs and then down over his unburned side. Goosebumps spread over Mick's body, making his skin feel tight and sensitive. Len traces the ice over each of Mick's ribs, and then back and forth over the ridge of his hip, dragging it in right up against the waist of Mick's jeans under two fingers. Every time Len comes in close with it Mick tenses up, instinctually bracing himself to feel that sharp coldness in between his legs, but Len always slides the ice away again. He teases like that until that ice cube has melted down into one thin, delicate square, until Mick has completely forgotten that he didn't want it on his cock to begin with and is twitching with anticipation every time it gets close. Len carefully positions the last of the cube just above the button of Mick's jeans and watches Mick squirm for it as it melts away on its own.

Len holds the next cube up in front of Mick's face, showing it to him, before putting it to use. Mick can feel his shoulders drag against the table as the muscles in his back tighten, lifting his chest, his body drawn to it despite how he'd expected not to be that into this. He's surprised to find himself sweaty, even still covered with goosebumps and shivering.

"Needy," observes Len smugly. Mick only huffs out a petulant sigh at him, which earns him a gentle flick on the nose, and then another kiss. The ice cube goes into Len's own mouth and Mick's eyebrows draw together in confusion before Lenny smirks around his mouthful and grabs another one from the tray. Mick hums a quiet moan and spreads his legs even further apart in excitement. Len's smirk widens almost into a grin, and even though his lips stay pressed together his eyes sparkle and dance and make his amusement perfectly clear. He doesn't need to say _told you so'_ for Mick to hear him just fine. Jerk.

But Len doesn't open Mick's pants and put the ice against his cock where he wants it now, and where Mick has known Len has wanted to put it since they started. He lifts up onto his knees and presses his thigh hard between Mick's legs instead, bracing himself on his free hand on the table above Mick's shoulder. He plops the ice cube into Mick's palm, making Mick's fingers twitch. It tickles mostly as Len slips it over the meat of Mick's thumb and down to the inside of his wrist, and then gets sharper as it comes into contact with the tight burn scars that go all down Mick's body on this side. Mick's biceps twitch and jump as Len drags the ice cube over his upper arm, circling it around the bunched muscle of Mick's shoulder, then down over the raised ridge where Mick's pec is stretched up to meet his delt. Mick thinks he'll follow the edge of the muscle back down to that same over-attended nipple, but instead Len tucks the ice cube into Mick's armpit, causing Mick to blurt out a sound halfway between a ticklish giggle and a moan. Len laughs a little too at the noise, pressing his closed lips affectionately against Mick's chest.

In his armpit, Mick's scars are feathered out like lightning, so any tiny movement of Len's hand brings a fresh wave different sensations. On his undamaged skin Mick can feel the wetness of the melting ice, the slickness of it as it glides over his skin, and on the scars it's a more intense cold feeling but without any of those other nuances. Most of the time it's both, and Mick has to close his eyes again, gasping raggedly, as his body tries and mostly fails to interpret what he's feeling.

"Lenny-" Mick whimpers when it seems like Len won't move the ice cube away from Mick's armpit until it's gone. Len does move it then, leaves it to finish melting in the valley of Mick's collarbone which makes it a little hard to breathe even before Len cups Mick's face with his cold hands and kisses him with a mouth chilled from the ice he'd been sucking on. Mick groans deeply and Len's tongue follows all its familiar paths inside his mouth, this time filling him up with bright coolness instead of the usual slick heat, inversely making Mick's own mouth feel much hotter. The feeling spreads all through Mick's body, making him sweat and pant even more. When Len pulls away he's grinning, open-mouthed and all teeth. _Told you so_ , his eyes brag again. Mick probably will never ever live this down, but if his body has any say in it, seems Mick probably won't want to anyway.

Finally - _finally_ \- Lenny goes for Mick's fly. Mick can't help the deep groan that comes out of him, the way he shudders in eagerness, shivers at the fleeting touch of Len's chilled fingertips. Len's mouth has returned to its natural temperature by the time he's pulled Mick's pants out of the way and is pressing his tongue flat against the head of Mick's neglected cock. It's almost a disappointment, if Len's mouth on him could ever be a disappointment. Mick sighs and blinks slow with pleasure as the frigid water left all over his torso evaporates and his goosebumps fade. Soon, the ice tray crunches again, and Mick's hips jerk in response. Len chokes a little, but also hums a muffled chuckle, smug as ever. Len sucks gently at just the head as he scoops out the cube he wants, Mick staring at the ceiling again, taking in a deep breath and holding it in as Len takes his mouth away, waiting for that sudden sharp cold to come.

After a second, Len's lips press back into Mick's leaking slit in a closed-mouth kiss. Mick's soft noise of confusion turns into a shout at Len takes him back inside and Mick feels that the ice cube is in his mouth too. Len's mouth is _hot_ where it's empty, cold as hell where the ice cube is held tight against the side of Mick's cock. The dual sensations both hurt, and they both feel so good. Mick's hands come down from where they've been beside his face, but he manages to press them firm and flat to the table at his sides before putting them on Len's head. He throws his own head back, knocking it hard against the table but hardly noticing. He cries out again and again as burning heat on one side and freezing cold on the other slides up and down his cock. His voice breaks, but he can't stop.

Mick doesn't hear it when Len grabs another ice cube, but he sure as hell notices when Len presses it against his perenium. It hurts there, _fuck_ it hurts, but the cold makes Mick's balls draw up tighter to his body bringing him closer - _so close_ \- despite the chill and the pain. The hard, unyielding pressure has its own effect too, and it all combines to have Mick jerking away and then more firmly into it, back and again. Len moans around him, the ice cube in his mouth almost fully melted now, but Mick can barely focus on the vibrations, overwhelmed as Len presses the fresher cube harder against him. When Len moves his mouth from Mick's cock to his balls and swipes his hot tongue just under the edge of the ice, it's over. Mick comes all over himself with a hoarse cry, and then devolves into fitful cursing when he finishes and Len doesn't take the ice away.

"Len- Lenny, fuck. _Fuck!_ " he protests, but he doesn't pull away or attempt to close his legs, just squirms and shudders and whimpers as Len holds that ice cube in place and kisses all across his thighs and hips. When the ice is all melted, Len keeps his cold fingers there instead, pressing in tight circles as Mick gasps for breath, helplessly overstimulated. Len drags himself up Mick's body to kiss and lick at his neck, moaning Mick's name into his ear and showering him in incoherent praise, until Mick can't take it anymore and pushes him away until he's standing. Mick sits up and pulls Len down roughly by the back of his neck so he can lick greedily into his mouth, running hot and needy like he didn't just come already, still covered in fresh goosebumps and shivering and horny from being all sensitized like that. Then he pushes Len back one more step and sinks to his knees on the floor, grabbing the ice tray down with him.

There are four more ice cubes left and Mick intends to make good fucking use of them.


End file.
